


a monument to desperation

by loamvoza



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Cutting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, POV Second Person, cutting kink?????, i'm going to various hells, it's glorified in any case, the fanfiction formerly known as Sin™, this is kinda gross thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loamvoza/pseuds/loamvoza
Summary: he says it’s lovely, the mark you’ve made together.he calls you beautiful and your head spins.





	a monument to desperation

**Author's Note:**

> please don't roast me. the lack of punctuation/grammar/capitalization/whatever is intentional.
> 
> two sad boys with no self esteem??? sign me up for those unhealthy coping mechanisms, fam.
> 
> written in second-person from mishima's POV.  
> title is from twin human highway flares by the mountain goats (':

when he slides the blade across your wrist, your first thought is that it stings.  
it doesn’t hurt. at least, not more than you’re expecting to.  
it’s a strange feeling that reminds you just how alive you are. you can’t tell if that’s good or not, or even if you necessarily like it. your mind is a little bit too hazy. to say that you’re overstimulated might be an understatement.

you turn bright red when he presses his lips to your new wound.  
he says it’s lovely, the mark you’ve made together.  
he calls you beautiful and your head spins.  
no one has called you beautiful before. no one has cared enough about you.

your soul aches and you know that his soul aches too.

he tells you that this will make you feel better.  
he isn’t wrong, but you want him to do it.  
he’s the only one you trust and he knows that.  
you think that maybe you like the high it’s given you.  
maybe you just like the high that comes from knowing he did it.

you feel a twist in your gut when you see that he has matching marks. some are scabbed over. some are healed. you remember that he wears gloves all of the time. gloves that come up too far past his wrist to be strictly sanitary.

your heart aches and you know that his heart aches too.

you start to think that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea right when he asks you if you’d like another. the crimson red lines of your blood have travelled down your arm. they feel sticky and uncomfortable but also good in a way that you can’t describe, like you had shadows in your heart and he let them free.

you want to tell him no.  
you see that beautiful glint in his brown eyes, the slight smile that his lips curl into  
and you decide that you can’t say no, because you feel like this matters to him.  
he finally looks happy. you’ve waited so long just to see him happy.

when he slides the blade across your wrist again, you feel magical.  
you feel as though the tension has eased from your bones. you close your eyes and you can feel yourself melt away.  
he giggles, and it’s a soft, melodious sound that makes your stupid heart pound in your stupid chest.

he taps you on the shoulder to bring you out of your stupor.  
he lets you watch as he presses the blade to his own wrist.  
he holds up his wrist to let you see, and he’s grinning so wide, and your stupid heart is pounding so fucking hard 

and he tells you that you match now, that you’ll be together forever even when you’re not, and your heart damn near bursts.

you’ve never felt important you’ve never felt needed no one ever liked you everyone always looked down on you

and here is this boy, who is so beautiful  
his laugh sounds like magic and his voice is soft and he is so so delicate and he is the only thing you have ever loved  
and he is the only thing you can even remember caring about, let alone this much  
and he’s telling you that he wants to be with you forever, at least in this small way  
and you feel your heartbeat in your ears now  
and your wrist aches with the introduction of two new slices  
and you feel weirdly alive and weirdly cared for

when he asks you to pull the pull the blade against his wrist, you feel nervous.  
you want him to do this all on his own. you don’t want to hurt him  
but when he finally convinces you to do it  
(it doesn’t take much convincing. what is fair is fair, you say)  
you realize that it’s far from hurting him.  
the sound that passes from his lips is borderline erotic and you can feel every nerve in your body tingle

you realize that he is finally happy when he crashes your lips together  
and he tastes faintly of your blood, which makes you excited and nauseous all at once  
you feel like you’ve tainted something beautiful until you realize that it was his choice  
and maybe, just maybe, you like that he tastes like a part of you that no one else ever will

and every time he calls you beautiful, your stupid heart catches in your stupid throat  
because you can’t be beautiful, he has to be lying to you  
but that tiny glint in his eyes  
with that small, small smile  
make you feel like you have to believe it  
like he’s telling you the truth, he’s not just humoring you  
everybody humors you. they feel bad for you.

you pull away for a second. just one second.  
he’s giving you with that soft smile. you feel tingly and you feel stupid and you feel like you’ve done something wrong. your wrist feels sticky and uncomfortable. you can’t help but think about how his wrist must feel the same way.

and all at once your stomach twists again with the realization that he doesn’t care. because he’s used to it. the blood from both of you now staining your sheets, making you sticky, tainting his lips -- he’s so used to this that he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care at all. there is a weird, primal fear in you. 

you ignore his gasp when you suddenly pull him close to you. your stupid heart is beating so fast in your stupid chest that you know he can feel it, and because he’s so, so nice to you, he doesn’t say anything. his arms wrap around you, and you feel weirdly safe, and you feel weirdly cared for. and it’s all so new. and your wrist hurts. and you wonder just how you’re going to explain this. and you wonder just why this feels so terrible but so good at the same time. and you wonder just what in god’s name -- in anyone’s name -- you’re _actually_ doing right now.

you squeeze him tight to you. breathlessly, stupidly, because your mind is a fuzzy mess and it can’t be from the very small amount of blood loss. 

you squeeze him tight to you because he’s the best damn thing you’ll ever have, whether anyone else likes it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> someone call hifumi up because i need to go to church


End file.
